It Doesn't Hurt
by MaggieMerc
Summary: When Callie is hanging out with Owen the rest of the crap in her life doesn't bother her quite as much. Arizona finds the same thing happening with Amelia.
1. It Doesn't Hurt

It isn't because of Owen. He's not the reason. She **knows** he's not the reason.

But when she's with him it doesn't hurt.

It's because of the project. They both dive in. They bury themselves in the work. Jackson helps when he can, but really its just the two of them. Working every day. Fitting legs and examining residual limbs and studying x-rays and configuring sensors. He joins her at lunch. Bounces Sophia on his knee and talks about the project. He smiles and she smiles and it isn't because of him.

It's because of the work.

When she's working she can't feel the pain. She can't see Arizona's stony expression. Constant and unnerving and impossible to breach. She can't remember long nights sharing a bed and aching because everything is all wrong.

When she's working, with Owen an arm's length away she can't remember the way Arizona used to sigh into her mouth when her hand slipped between her legs or the way she'd press Callie against the shower and consume her like she was everything.

When she's with him it doesn't hurt.

And then. Then they're both bouncing up and down with excitement. They're both **vibrating**. The world is brighter and they've helped a man walk and it isn't professional to scream and whoop and cheer when the man's panting and exhausted and cranky so they step out. They walk with hurried steps to the closest office, shut the door.

And they cheer. He's grinning and she wants to cry and they jump up and down. She grabs Owen's arms and shakes him and he smiles like Cristina never left and everything is right.

Until he kisses her.

Or she kisses him.

It's just.

It's celebration. You kiss friends when you celebrate. You press your lips to theirs because you're happy.

They part. They're panting like their patient.

Overhead the air conditioner kicks in. Drones.

They try not to look at each other. She's still hold his arms and his hands are somehow on her waist but it's just because they were hugging. Because they had a great day and they wanted to celebrate and

He's looking at her lips and back to her eyes and he's so sorry and wracked with guilt and struggling with some demon she's painfully familiar with.

And she can step back.

Or say something.

The shock is falling from her face and she can't quite smile or frown.

She should say something.

Now he's only looking at her lips and she's looking at his eyes because if she looks at his lips

He kisses her again. It's ardent. Warm.

Hot.

Fire. She can't breathe because she's being consumed and nothing hurts.

Nothing feels right.

It all feels wrong.

But it doesn't hurt.

When she's with him it doesn't hurt.


	2. Brand New Girl

She's a brand new girl.

She never thinks about it. When you're all brand new you can't stop to think about the old you. She just keeps moving. Keeps hopping from case to case. Tries to have a kid. Loses the kid. Tries to have an affair. Fucks that up too. Tries to fix things with her wife. Doesn't go well. She's a brand new girl and nothing fits.

So she takes on a new specialty. She used to be good with parents and great with kids but now she has to be extraordinary with parents and nothing to the kids. Kids are more perceptive. They see the pain when she's been on her leg too long or sense her frustration when this brand new girl has to go up against that new old life. The kids are tiny. They fit in one hand. They can't sense that she's a brand new girl. They don't notice when she tired or hurt or depressed. They just give her results. She treats them right and they live and parents sob and hug her and her new mentor smiles and nods in approval.

For a brand new girl that's just enough.

She has longer hours. It'd be a problem but Callie is on the other end of the hospital shoulder to shoulder with Owen saving lives.

Arizona can stay up late doing paperwork in her office. Sofia spends time with her. Sometimes on her lap, sometimes on the couch. She sleeps or cries or watches movies and the best times, the ones that put a smile on Arizona's face when she's going to bed late at night, are when it's all quiet. Just Sophia on one side of the desk and her on the other. Fingers tapping at the keyboard. Medical discoveries unfolding before her eyes.

That would never have been enough once upon a time, but it's fine for this brand new girl.

####

She kisses Callie's shoulder. It's bare. The strap of her shirt has slipped down her arm and there's a wide expanse of smooth skin.

There's something intoxicating about Callie. She's vibrating. Not angry or devastated or on cruise control. Not content either. But there's **something**.

Arizona kisses up her shoulder. To her neck. She moves fluidly straddling Callie and taking her in.

"You're beautiful," she says.

Callie doesn't say anything back. Her hands are pressed to Arizona's back rubbing lazy circles and one leg comes up to offer support if she needs it, but otherwise she's still. Her face a mask.

Callie's the expressive one. Callie talks and cries and every hurt and joy plays across her face. But tonight she's smooth and still. It's too familiar.

Like a mirror. Arizona tries to shatter it with tongue and lips and fingers.

Her hand is between Callie's legs and she thrusts forward trying to drive away the mask on her wife's face.

God damn it. She knows that face.

She presses her other hand against the wall for leverage. Her wrist aches. Her fingers cramp. But Callie isn't in love or lust. Her eyes are dark and distant even as they watch Arizona. Taking her in. Filing her away.

"Please," Arizona pants.

Her thumb brushes a bundle of nerves. She should hear a sigh or a moan. See more than just flushed cheeks. Callie is always so breathless. Her nostrils flare and she always looks at Arizona like she made the world.

There. A crack. Emotion seeping through.

Tears have filled Callie's eyes. Her hands rise to cup Arizona's cheeks and they cool.

She's panting now. "Stop."

But all Arizona can do is gasp again, "Please."

Callie rises up. Surging into a long aching kiss. She comes with a gentle tremor. "Stop," she whispers again, her lips to Arizona's ear. "It's over."

The mirror splinters.

"It can't—" Her fingers are still inside Callie and she flexes them up, seeking another long tremor, but Callie's legs part and she pulls back even as she kisses Arizona again.

"I'm so sorry." Her thumbs stroke Arizona's face. Her lips. Her eyes seem to commit Arizona to memory.

She's finally shattered the mirror. Taken off Callie's mask. And what lies behind breaks her heart.

"I kissed Owen," she says. Like Arizona's fingers aren't inside her. Like they're at the dining room table taking turns feeding Sophia. "It was wrong. But it didn't hurt."

Arizona swallows. "And I hurt."

Callie is crying nows. She's always been so expressive and the tears flow freely. "I love you," she says. Her voice cracks with the truth of it. "I **love** you."

"But I hurt you."

She's crying too she realizes. Callie keeps blurring and it's all wrong. Moments like this are supposed to be clear.

Callie's thumbs catch the tears. Wipes them away. "We hurt each other." She's resigned. Her voice suddenly flat. "We just keep hurting each other and I can't—I can't lose what little bit of you I have left."

She can't lose the friend. The one who listened when her parents disowned her or when she was furious with Mark or when she was ranting about work.

Arizona's other hand is still pressed against the wall, the muscles in her arm straining. She carefully drops it and her body falls onto Callie. They're both clothed. It isn't skin to skin. It's hot and uncomfortable and once upon a time it was perfect.

She tilts her head so she can lay it upon Callie's chest. She listens to her heartbeat. Slow and steady. She remembers the crash. Remembers lying on Callie's bed and listening to her heart and willing her to live.

"So what do we do?"

Callie's breath catches in her throat. Her chest hitches. Like she's going to cry again. Arizona closes her eyes and tries to remember lying in bed after the shooting. Naked and connected. Breathing in sync.

Her hand clutches at Callie's shirt.

Callie's hand combs through her hair. It's soothing, but it makes the ache building in her chest all the more pronounced.

"I…I'll sleep in the guest bedroom."

"No I—"

Her fingers press into Arizona's scalp. "No. It's my turn to be the bad guy, Arizona. Let me take it."

"Don't." She looks up. Their eyes meet. "Don't try to make me hate you."

"Don't you?"

The thing is…

She doesn't know. Everything in her head is so noisy and she's gotten so good at setting it aside. Compartmentalizing. Focusing. Finding just one thing that's right.

That used to be Callie.

She smiles and she knows it's all wrong.

Callie smiles too. It hurts more than waking up without a leg.

"You were the love of my life Callie Torres."

####

Arizona Robbins is a brand new girl.

Everything's changed.

Everything's lost.

It's all wrong and forced to be right.

But there's one constant.

One thing she will always be sure of.

Once upon a time she loved Callie Torres.


	3. Where's the OJ?

Karev looks skeptical. "You're living together, but seeing other people?"

Arizona tries smiling and nodding happily. They're in line at the coffee cart. Just coworkers. Doing coworker activities.

Karev continues to stare.

"This way we don't disrupt Sofia's schedule but we're not," she waves her hand around, "being messy."

"Are you divorcing?"

"Callie said we weren't even 'for real' married anyways."

He looks her up and down. Like he's try to diagnose a disorder. "And you're okay with this?"

"Yes." She says it with surety.

"Your wife is going to bring people home, women **and** men, and sleep with them, in a bed you helped pay for, and you're okay?" They get to the front of the line and he takes a muffin and hands over cash.

"We need time." She grabs her coffee.

"Listening to her moaning some other dude's name and then you having to show them where the OJ is the next morning because they don't know—"

"She's not…she's not just gonna start bringing people over, Alex. She's probably not even gonna date anyone. Maybe some heavy petting."

He's still skeptical.

"She'll take her time." She pours in too much sugar and cream. It's a problem.

He nods. "Who is it?"

"She's not—"

"That Derm guy with the beard?"

"She thinks I slept with half the Derm department—" it was only a third— "she's not gonna try for sloppy seconds." She stirs the coffee.

"Dude's a dude."

"It's not Derm."

"That hot night nurse then? The one always giving her coffee and purring at her?"

"What? No. That **would** be sloppy seconds."

"Dude."

She tries not to look smug about her old slut ways and instead takes a huge gulp of her coffee. There's so much sugar in it her teeth hurt.

Alex shakes his head, "Whatever. As long as it's not someone stupid like Hunt."

Her eye twitches.

Alex definitely doesn't see it.

"Dude." He's staring at her. "Is your wife banging Hunt?"

"What? No. Why?" She takes another sip. She's practically guzzling it.

He ticks the reasons off with his fingers, "They both like kids, marriage and are getting over emotionally unavailable sluts."

"Hey!"

"Man," he groans, "she's banging Hunt."

"That's not— You don't— Heavy petting," she finally squeaks out.

"Least he's been to your house before." He takes a huge bite of his muffin and crumbs fly everywhere as he talks, "You won't have to show him where the OJ is."

####

The sex is the easiest thing in the world.

Owen is aggressive. Callie already knew that. She lived with the man and caught him and Cristina on more surfaces than Lysol could handle. But he's tender too. That never came across when she was walking in on them.

He's tender. And playful.

It's a different kind of sex and she works hard not to compare him to others. And she tries not to compare herself to his ex-wife.

And he makes that easy.

She has to be present when they're together. There's something urgent in his touch and this insatiable need to be **it**, and she's sure she's the same. They've too often been second best to someone, or something, else so when they're together they are everything.

It's addictive and Callie finds herself tugging him into closets like they're interns.

But when they're sated and leaning against a shelf wondering where their pants are it isn't so easy. They laugh and smile awkwardly.

####

"Do you want to get a drink?"

Callie's putting on her scrub bottoms and stares at Owen like a deer in the headlights. He wants to hit himself as soon as he asks. Of course Callie doesn't want to get a drink. She's a single mom living with her ex-wife and her child and working 60 hour weeks at the hospital. She doesn't have **time** to get a drink with her casual sex…person.

She swallows. "Like…in public?"

He really wants to rescind the offer, "Yes. I mean we could go to the trailer if you wanted—"

She blanches, "No. No, let's do drinks."

He grimaces.

"Wait. Do **you** want to do drinks," she asks.

He does. He wants to sit and talk. Wants to figure Callie out and figure himself out and make sense of **something**. "It's just…I asked and then I remembered. You've got Sofia and—"

"She's with Arizona. Already home and probably in bed. I can drink."

"You're sure?"

She gives him a crooked smile. "I'm sure."

####

The orange juice sweats on the counter.

Sofia eats her Cheerios happily.

Arizona watches the condensation bead and fall down the sides of the bottle. She tries to breathe like the world isn't ending.

Callie slept somewhere else.


	4. Move On

Callie has tried, on occasion, to take a page from Arizona's book and not dwell on things. Her wife, with the exception of a few hiccups, is in constant motion. She treats life like she's in the OR. Always moving. Little victories count the same as big victories in Arizona's work and she deals with the rest of her life the same way. The tiniest step forward is monumental.

Callie has tried that way and she's failed.

Spending the night in Derek's trailer with Owen isn't the big step forward she wanted it to be. When she wakes up in the early morning, the sky gray because the sun's too lazy to rise, and she hears Owen in the tinny shower she hyperventilates.

All the sex they've had across all the surfaces of Grey Sloan Memorial and it's his shadow in the shower that cuts to the quick.

She has fond memories of the trailer. Of sitting on the bed and pulling Arizona into her arms and sinking into bliss for hours. Being sweaty and sated and watching cheap tea candles burn down in the other room.

They'd joked about the smell. Pine needles and aftershave. They'd watched the sun rise out on the deck, cold dew damp on the blanket wrapped around them.

They'd been happy.

And now her body is stiff from vigorous sex with someone else.

Panic whines at the back of her head.

Arizona would…she'd slip into the shower and fuck the person there until they couldn't walk and she couldn't think about her panic and hurt.

But Callie tried that and now she's snapping like a brittle twig.

She laughs.

A twig. No one would call her a twig.

Owen sticks his head out, water running down his pale skin that never tans like her wife's does. He smiles. "Want to join me?"

Arizona would.

Joining him would be easy. Callie's still slick from a long night of sex. Though she has no doubt that if she stuck her hand between her legs there'd be a chill.

Owen could warm her up.

The trailer smells like beer and another brand of aftershave.

"Early surgery," she begs.

He nods and disappears back into the steam.

He hums and she scrambles for her clothes.

Owen's happy.

Like Arizona.

Trauma and peds. They're a lot alike. They have to take the little victories. But Callie's ortho. Little victories don't mean shit if the bones are still broken.

####

Sofia doesn't have any idea how upset her mommy is. Or she's so used to her parents arguing that she knows to keep quiet as Arizona drives them to the hospital and fights the anger bubbling up inside of her.

That's awful.

She's not supposed to be the kind of woman who raises a kid in a fractured, messy home.

Her leg itches and she stomps it loudly on the elevator, accepting the brief jarring pain that runs up the limb from shortened thigh to hip and then trying to not notice the intern standing beside her and watching her like she's crazy.

She drops Sofia off at daycare and takes a flight of stairs when she sees Callie getting on the elevator.

She tries to focus on her work and not think about the cool, unused sheets on Callie's bed.

When Dr. Herman has her following up with all her post ops like a second year resident she devotes herself to the task and thumps her thigh every time the image of Callie fucking someone else pops into her head.

It's not the idea of sex that lingers. It's pizza and talking to 2 a.m. Did he hold her afterwards? Tell her she was amazing? Lazily draw constellations across the perfect imperfections of her skin? Did they have slow and easy sex in the shower before coming to work? Take one car and laugh at each other's jokes as they walked in?

When she sees the back of Callie leave an on call room all the questions come to a head. She drops her stack of charts into Wilson's startled arms and tells her to handle it, then stalks into the room like a chief resident putting her interns in line.

Owen is tugging on a scrub top and looking confused and the room smells like sweaty sex.

Her leg is throbbing and all the habits she has to deal with it she learned from Owen. Who she just wants to beat with her leg.

He's alarmed by her rushing into the room and stands. Looms. "Robbins what—"

"You can't just use her."

He goes from confused to hard in a heartbeat.

"You're getting over Cristina and Callie—she doesn't deserve to be a stepping stone on your wellness trek."

A muscle in his jaw twitches. She can see him reigning something in. "You seemed just fine using her like a stepping stone." She can't even guess which time he means.

"I loved her." It sounds wrong and if she were the kind of person who got introspective she'd stop to wonder why.

He shakes his head. Tucks his top in. "Do yourself a favor, Arizona." He leans in and she can smell more of Callie than him. "Move on."

####

She finds Amelia Shepherd eating a cup of frozen yogurt in the cafeteria. "You broke up with your fiance right?"

The spoonful of yogurt is melting in Amelia's mouth and she's trying to figure out what the hell Arizona means. "Yeah," she finally says. The words are thick with frozen food.

"My wife and I are separated."

"I heard."

"Apparently I need to move on."

Amelia raises an eyebrow. A series of ill-conceived hook ups in med school are replaying behind her eyes. Arizona has purposely steered clear of her every time she's come into town to avoid seeing that replay. "Is this a booty call Robbins?"

"Not if you keep calling it that."

It used to be easier. In med school they were both so easy going and so driven to be the best and so god damned flirty it would just happen. Then Tim was dead and Amelia was popping pills like M&Ms and they had other things to occupy their time.

"There isn't some nurse you had your eye on?"

"I'd rather fuck the devil I know thanks."

"Usually safer that way. But this devil is sober and doesn't sleep with people who can't be bothered to say hello for the last month I've been here."

"I've been busy. Do you want to see what I've learned since med school or not?" She doesn't even try to flirt. Callie was complaining about that. Talking about sparks that had fizzled.

"This is the worst come on I've had in at least six months," her wide eyes flicker to the clock ticking behind Arizona, "but I got an hour to kill." She drops her spoon into the empty cup.

Arizona goes down on Amelia in an on call room that's more bed than room. It smells kind of moldy. Amelia took off her pants but doesn't ask Arizona to do the same. When her hand slides into Arizona's underwear it takes just a few long thrusts to make her come.

"I'm feeling underwhelmed," she jokes.

So Arizona flips her over, crawls on top of her and seeks to overwhelm.


	5. Awkward

It's the first time they're both awake, in the house together, with Sofia asleep, in at least a month. Callie had come home with Sofia after work to find Arizona in the kitchen scrubbing the oven clean. She'd taken her leg off and had a pillow underneath her to help with balance.

They don't talk about why Arizona is cleaning the self cleaning oven. When pizza comes for dinner Callie wordlessly leaves a plate of it on top of the stove for her. After dinner she puts Sofia to bed and goes into the living room and sips wine and watches true crime reality shows and tries to ignore the sound of steel bristles scrubbing at old burned in stains.

Eventually the scrubbing stops. The microwave opens and closes and runs and opens and closes again. Arizona walks in, pizza in one hand and cane in the other.

"Can I join you," she asks shyly.

Callie scoots over so there's enough space between them and they watch the true crime shows in silence. They're about the crazy men women have married. Secret stalker husbands and murderers and even a famous bank robber.

It's weird to think of the limits these women went to to stay in their marriages. To make them work despite the madness knocking at their doors. And here Callie is sitting in the ruins of her own marriage with Arizona chewing on green peppers and sausage beside her.

She winces. Stands up. Pours another glass of wine. Then a second glass for Arizona who eyes it suspiciously when Callie puts it on the coffee table in front to her.

"I though you had a long surgery tonight," Callie says during commercials.

Arizona sets her empty plate down and reaches for her glass of wine. "Herman cancelled surgery. The mother died this afternoon."

Callie's glass pauses at her lips and she fights the urge to reach for Arizona. They used to be able to wordlessly comfort. To wrap up in each other and forget any death that lingered at the edge of their thoughts.

Now Arizona scrubs an oven that doesn't need scrubbing and Callie watches poor re-enactment of stories out of a twenty year old Reader's Digest.

She sips her wine.

####

Amelia's bracing herself against a shelf that shimmies with every thrust and they're both ignoring the clattering of supplies falling to the floor and Arizona is trying not to think about Callie and the way she whispered goodnight from down the hall as they went to bed in separate bedrooms.

She'd looked sad for the first time in days. Looked affected by the self-inflicted separation. And Arizona is trying to drive away those thoughts by fucking Amelia until her wrist aches.

The lights in the closet flicker on when Arizona's mouth is pressed against Amelia's shoulder and the gasp she hears is so familiar she thinks she might crack.

Amelia taps her arm to stop and she hears the joke in her voice. "This is awkward," she says.

And Arizona still can't turn to face the figures in the doorway because she knows who it is and she knows the look of fury she'll see on Owen's face and the look of shock on Callie's.

"You two need the room," Amelia jokes.

####

Jackson's the one that calls them in.

The boardroom is empty except for the three board members, the chief of surgery, and Amelia Shepherd.

Jackson paces. Pauses. Glares. Paces again.

The guy struggles to be authoritative except when he's angry. Then there's a trace of it mired in a childish fury that used to rankle on Callie but now just amuses her.

Except today. Today she's been called to the carpet.

All four of them have.

Jackson goes down the line. "You are the chief of surgery. Board member. The chief of neurosurgery. Former chief of pediatric surgery **and** board member."

Amelia bumps Arizona's shoulder playfully. "Overachiever."

Jackson glares, but Amelia's smirk is like Teflon.

"You can't just," his hands circles around and around as his whole self tries to put it into words. But he fails and instead returns to over serious child saddled with authority. "You're adults."

"Well aware," Amelia jokes.

"Which means you can't go around the hospital having sex in supply closets and getting into shouting matches."

Arizona scoffs and Callie has to agree. "You're one to talk," she challenges.

"Pretty sure you and April have done it more in supply closets than your own bed," Arizona mumbles under her breath.

Callie wants to high five her but resists.

They're in a fight.

One for the ages.

Arizona's hand probably still smells like Amelia and if Callie thinks too hard about it she'll be sick.

The other women Arizona at least tried to hide.

Amelia she stands close to almost proudly.

Like she and Callie are over.

Or never were.

"I think we can handle this ourselves," Owen growls. His arm is close enough to hers that she can savor the warmth.

She glances at Arizona. Arizona glances back. Bright eyes dark. They only turn on the accent lights when they filed into the room.

Jackson's voice is strangely soft. "I know things are tough right now, but the fights can't happen here. Not where staff—patients—can see."

"I don't think it will happen again," Owen assures him. His voice is soft too.

"Yeah, I think this was kind of the nail in the coffin," Amelia says. Even the dry snark softened by something else.

"It won't be a problem." Only Arizona's voice is even. Not soft or understanding. Just hard.

Callie is the first to leave the room. She throws up in a hazardous waste bin one floor down.

When Owen looks for her she sneaks into the women's bathroom and curls up on the toilet hoping the nausea consuming her will go away.

Later the door opens and closes and a too familiar gait can be heard.

"Callie," Arizona whispers through the door, her voice as weary as Callie feels. "Can we talk?"

"I said it was over," she chokes, "I can't…you obviously took what I said to heart."

"Please," Arizona begs. "Just…" Her forehead thumps against the stall door. "Please come out."

"Did you at least wash your hands?"

Arizona's sigh is heavy. Her sneakers squeak on the tile and then she sliding awkwardly down to the floor to sit. "I can't be the bad guy this time Callie."

"But you've gotten so good at it."

"We—you ended us because I keep hurting you. But…" She sighs again and Callie can hear her scrubbing her face, "we're done aren't we? You're with Owen now."

She knows that. But she squeezes her knees tighter.

"So when I'm with someone you can't act like its to hurt you. Because it isn't. It never has been."

"She's Derek's little sister—"

"And he's Cristina's ex-husband." It's the first time Arizona has really sounded hurt since Callie chopped her leg off. Not tired. Not worn down. Not irritated.

Hurt.


	6. Chapter 6

They're sitting on the floor of Amelia's brand new apartment, half naked and panting. Amelia reaches across Arizona to pull two cigarettes out of her purse and she lights both before handing one to Arizona.

"You trying to break me," she asks.

Arizona smirks and blows a puff of smoke in Amelia's direction.

They'd been moving Amelia into her new place and got distracted.

It was a lazy and happy distraction and now Arizona feels loose and sated.

"You know what I find interesting?" Amelia pauses and puffs out three perfect smoke rings, one right after the other. Her lips are dry.

Arizona wipes her hand across her own lips. The taste of Amelia mingles with the cigarette.

"I find it interesting that we've fucked so many times I've lost count but the last time I saw you without pants on we lived in Baltimore."

Arizona's leg itches and she looks away, sucking on her cigarette like the nicotine in it could transport her out of the room.

"You want to explain why you're turning me into a pillow princess?"

"You got me off plenty."

Amelia waggles her fingers. "With my hand. Jammed down your pants like we're doing it in the back of a car. We keep this up and I won't be able to perform surgeries."

She keeps sucking on her cigarette and she wonders how she can get out of Amelia's apartment without it being obvious.

"I mean, you've let people besides Callie see your leg right?"

It's not soft or tender. Just a matter of fact question.

And blond hair flashes before her eyes. Both of them were blonds. Both of them reminded her of herself once upon a time. Less Leah. Thinking about Leah always twists her up. It's difficult to reconcile the hurt she caused that girl.

"Right," Amelia asks again and she's leaning forward on naked knees waiting patiently for a response.

"I've fucked other people."

"More than one? That's impressive. How'd the wife handle you being a big old slut?"

"I just spent the last fifteen minutes between **your** thighs so you tell me."

"Okay. So you've slept with other people. So why can't you take your pants off in front of me?"

Because besides Callie Amelia's the only person she's slept with that knew her before. Amelia can remember Arizona in skirts so short she got reprimanded once. She can remember those legs wrapped around her. Can remember—

Amelia grabs her by the chin and turns her towards her. "Hey." Her voice is soft and intimate. That's not the way they're supposed to be. "It's just a question." And she tries to smile like she doesn't care.

"You knew me before."

"And hated you at least eighty percent of the time."

"But you knew me. And this," she glances at her leg, "this changes things. I don't need to fuck someone that looks at me with pity."

"Did Callie do that?"

Callie's still working on a project to build Arizona a brand new leg. She still wrestles with guilt Arizona gladly piled on her shoulders. When they were going to sleep she thought she could spy the pity, even when Callie only looked at her with love when she was lying between her legs.

"I can't handle the pity."

Amelia nods again. Drops the rest of her still burning cigarette into a half a bottle of water and then kneels between Arizona's legs.

"What are you—"

She pulls her pants down in a tug. They catch on her prosthetic and Amelia stops to inspect it. "Yeah," she says, nodding like she's looking at a car she'd going to buy. "I can see how I should pity you. You always get the best parking spaces."

The comment pulls a sharp laugh out of Arizona that promptly deflates all the misery that had been building up inside of her.

Amelia scoots down by Arizona's feet and carefully extricated her pants from her prosthetic. "I get worrying about pity but you know I'm a neurosurgeon right? We're about as close to sociopaths as you can get outside a jail."

"So I don't have to worry about you empathizing."

"Definitely not. And if I cry while looking at you it's because I'm thinking about how much better the sex could be with a handful of pills and a bottle of vodka."

Pants off Amelia grabs her by both knees and pulls her onto her back. She leans over her so all Arizona can see is bright eyes and a wicked smile.

"Now, keep an eye out for a snorkel, because I don't plan on coming up for air for at least an hour."

####

The trailer is off limits. The house is off limits. Hotels are off limits because it would make it too clear how temporary feeling their relationship is.

So Callie and Owen are fucking in the back of her car.

It's a big plush SUV that still has that brand new car smell and Arizona is taking Sofia to school all week so there isn't even a car seat in it.

"I feel a little like a teenager," Owen mutters as he draws her hair away from her neck and kisses down her back.

She's on her hands and knees and doesn't feel like a teenager at all. When she was a teenager it was blow jobs and missionary and inappropriate thoughts about that one girl in gym class.

Now Owen is naked and behind her and she needs something different because all she can think about lately is Arizona.

He slides in with a hiss. Gentle, but different and Callie has to reach for the seat in front of her for support.

"You okay," he asks and he sounds too far away.

She nods.

The rhythm is slow and in this position Callie can't do much but let Owen set the speed.

"It's always your choice that matters," Arizona once said over the body of a twelve year old kid as they worked together to save his life.

Sex positions isn't exactly what Arizona meant when she'd said it and this particular event is actually Callie's idea, but she's trying. Experimenting. Letting go of the power games that have dominated her life since Arizona snuck into the bathroom at Joe's to kiss her on the lips.

Owen pulls her up against him and reaches between her legs to bring her to orgasm as his stubble scrapes at her neck.

She has to grab him for support and he's tender as he holds her through delicious spasms that rock her whole body.

"Imagine if we actually had room," he murmurs against her ear. He's still thrusting. A steady rhythm at odds with her shuddering.

It's easy.

But he's right.

They can't keep fucking in cars and on call rooms.


	7. It Was Funny

Thick arms wrap around her waist and soft lips brush her cheek. "Guess," he says, shaking both their hips in a little dance, "what I did?"

Callie plays dumb, "Saved a life?"

He murmurs a yes against her neck. "Yours."

"Mine?"

One hand disappears from around her waist and then reappears with a pamphlet. "Bed and Breakfast."

She stares at the house. Gorgeous Craftsman-style home down the coast. "Wait what?"

"I talked with your boss," he means himself, "and moved some things around and got us four days of seafood, wine and sex in a real bed."

"And—"

"And Arizona is taking Sofia."

She doesn't know how to respond to that. Doesn't know if she is grateful she doesn't have to talk with Arizona or upset that she'dsmissed the expression on Arizona's face.

"When do we leave," she asks—forcing cheeriness into her voice.

"Tomorrow. Noon."

####

They ran into each other as Callie and Owen were leaving and Arizona was coming back from an early lunch. Callie had a bag on her shoulder and a grin on her face and Arizona was stuck smiling back because anything else would be wrong.

She avoided Amelia the whole long weekend. Talked to her parents and tried not to cry. Took Sofia to the park. Took her to the wharf. Went to physical therapy and tried to sweat out the all wrong feelings.

And when Callie bounces into the house giddy and smiling Monday night Arizona tries to smile like it doesn't all hurt.

Callie is breathtaking. Awe inspiring. Glowing.

And she sees Arizona and a little bit—just a fraction—of that joy dims. "You're still awake," she says. The smile doesn't quite fall.

"Couldn't sleep."

Her leg has been bothering her. Aching when ever she thinks about Callie and the hurt she's caused her. Her own personal tell-tale heart.

Amelia would say it was in her head.

Callie would agree.

Callie glances at her leg. Shorter than the other. The one that ends in smooth flesh and just the palest of scars. "Your leg?"

Sharp pain lances through it like she's on the forest floor sitting in her own urine and waiting to be rescued or die. Sweat sprouts up damp and ticklish on her neck. It hasn't hurt this bad in months.

"No." It's a little choked.

Callie starts towards her. Stops.

Three years later and the leg is still a problem. An emblem of everything that's gone wrong. Every misunderstood promise and declaration. Callie can't reach out and try to soothe the ache because she's part of the problem.

Arizona throws the blanket over her thigh.

Callie nods to herself.

Leaves the room.

Comes back. Sits.

"It's bothering you," she says like she understands. Voice soft.

Arizona closes her eyes. Bites back words that won't help matters.

"Did you over work it today? Stay on it too long?"

She cracks open one eye and sees Callie studying her like a patient. Like's she's bones that can be mended.

"It's not—" She moves away. Until her back is pressed into the armrest. "It's phantom pains."

Callie is confused. "Those go away."

She wants to laugh. Here is her wife, one of the greatest orthopedic surgeons to ever pick up a bone saw, but when she's faced with Arizona's residual limb her knowledge is suddenly limited to medical dramas on ABC.

"It's in my head," she says. Misery and self-spite lace her words. "Like it always is."

"That isn't true—"

But they both know Callie agrees. Callie who tells her she's selfish. Callie who tells her to get over it. Callie who tries to build her a new leg to make up for the one she took away.

It's dangling between them. A dark shadow of desolation. Everything that's broken them starts with that leg.

"Can I help," Callie finally asks.

"No." The word is succinct. Satisfying in its brevity.

Arizona turns up the tv and wallows in dark thoughts and Callie eventually sighs and walks away.

The pain lingers until morning.

####

Meredith is wrinkling her nose like Callie smells. "Seriously?"

"He's nice." Her voice is high in Owen's defense.

"So was George."

Fair point. "I just want to know if you think we should tell Cristina."

Meredith pushes back in her chair and drops her charts onto the counter. "I wouldn't."

"Really?"

"Even though she moved across the world that's still **her** guy and you're still her…friend?"

"She's the godmother of my child."

"Right. So she's your friend then. Usually you **don't** sleep with your friend's ex."

Unless you were Mark.

"But what if we get serious?"

"Then you tell her. But if you're just sleeping around in cars and taking random weekend trips I wouldn't worry. I mean does Sofia even know who he is?"

Callie lets out a huge breath she hasn't realized she's been holding.

Meredith nods sagely. "Exactly. Don't tell her."

The doors to surgery open dramatically and Amelia Shepherd power walks through them. She stops when she sees the two of them at the nurse's station. Nods. "Ladies." Keeps power walking.

A minute later Arizona jogs in as best she can. She's breathless as she runs hops. "Hi," she says brightly. "If-if you see Derek? You didn't see me."

Meredith narrows her eyes at Arizona. Callie doesn't fail to notice they way her scrub top is tucked into her underwear.

She keeps moving, the hitch in her step to accomodate her prosthetic knee. She can usually jog just fine on it. It must be bothering her-

Derek comes through the doors like a vengeful rock god…if such a thing exists. He's furious and righteous and absolutely McDreamy.

Callie tries not to be awestruck by him because she's seen the inside of his arm. She's **rebuilt** that arm.

"Either of you seen my sister?"

Meredith's resting her chin on her fist.

"Nope," Callie says-going for nonchalance.

His bright eyes narrow. "What about Robbins?"

"Why," Meredith asks. She's smirking. That know-it-all smirk she's had since she was an intern. It still kind of pisses Callie off.

Derek goes rigid. "You knew."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Everyone knew."

He looks to Callie. "Did you know?"

"I-" She flushes. Remembering the oncall room and the bitter jealousy that had clouded her vision.

Derek misinterprets. "Right. Sorry. Are you…?"

"She's sleeping with Owen."

Meredith is way too satisfied with herself and Callie shoots her a dirty look.

It's all enough to throw Derek off and he tugs at his lab coat. "Right. Well. Um. Congratulations?"

"We're pretty low key," she says. Everything feeling surreal.

"Okay. Good. Good. So I have to-Amelia. Robbins. I have to-"

Meredith, still smirking, waves. "Have fun," she says brightly.

Derek Shepherd, neuro god, actually blushes.

He leaves the nurse's station with chin to chest.

Callie rounds on her "friend."

"Seriously? You were just telling me not to tell Cristina and now you're blabbing to Derek?"

"You saw his face though." She laughs. "It was funny right?"

It **was** funny.

And Owen's laugh is warm and kind when she tells him about it later.


	8. We're Done

It's a rough day. Herman rips Arizona a new one in front of half her peers, and she's still smarting from Alex telling her off for trying to take one of his cases, and April and Amelia are stuck in surgery until sunrise. Arizona finds herself adrift, wandering the hospital and fighting back embarrassing tears. She doesn't want people to see it. They don't need to see a former golden girl of the hospital now devolved into a sniffling fellow who isn't even allowed to sit at the same table as her former peers.

She slips into a supply closet off the beaten path. Makes her way to the far corner where the lighting is always miserable. Sits down.

Cries.

It's shameful. Then it isn't. Then it's cathartic.

But when the big sobs people can go whole years without heaving well up inside of her the door opens and she hears quiet murmurs and giggles.

Being fair skinned she knows she looks splotchy and red. She knows that she won't be able to laugh it off as pain or allergies. She's sobbing in a supply closet after a long, hard day and there's no escaping that.

So she gets quiet. She sniffles back a gob of snot and presses herself against the shelf and hopes the couple just on the other side of the shelf doesn't hear her or does and goes away.

They kiss. Loud. Breathless.

Someone giggles and it's too familiar. She closes her eyes and presses her face to her knees.

The kissing stops.

There are low voices.

A sigh.

Heavy footsteps. Then softer ones. Closer.

Callie stands opposite her and stares down at her and says nothing.

And Arizona tries to smile, but it's Callie and she can never smile with Callie when her she's breaking in two. So she doesn't even try.

Callie, to her credit, looks sympathetic. But she doesn't make a move to kneel or hug or comfort.

Because that's not who they are any more.

Instead she slides down onto the floor opposite Arizona and just. Sits.

Arizona catches her studying her. Once again like she's bones to be mended. But Callie seems to realize what she's doing and stops herself.

Then she smiles apologetically.

And Arizona smiles too.

"What," Callie catches herself again. She takes a breath. "How's Amelia?"

Callie doesn't care about Amelia. "She's in surgery."

Callie nods. She's struggling with this "conversation" and wriggling with the effort. "And April?"

"Surgery."

"Alex?"

"Kicked me out of the NICU."

Callie winces. "Do you—"

"No." She does not want to talk about.

Callie nods again. Then something clicks in her head. An idea forms. And she flashes one of those smiles that always lights up Arizona's whole world. "What have you been up to?"

The way she says it—the way it is so obviously about all the things they **won't** talk about—has Arizona laughing. "Not much."

"Threaded any jello lately?"

"All the time."

"Which saves babies." She says it carefully. A reminder.

"Symbolic babies." Arizona sounds bitter.

Callie taps Arizona's knee with her foot, "Those count."

She rolls her eyes.

"Though I do think its safe to say Sofia is never going to want jello again when this fellowship is up."

Their fridge is packed with bulbous platters of gelatin and the pantry has even more packets of the stuff. They've been sending it to pre-school with Sofia every day to middling success. "Maybe I'll try something else. Flan would work right?"

"Little hard to see where the thread is going."

"Mousse."

Callie snaps. "Jello shots—" Her excitement falters comically, "and that's still—"

"Jello."

They both giggle. Like they did so long ago Arizona can't even remember. One of those first days when pizza in bed and sex until dawn was enough.

But the laughter dies down and they're just sitting there. All alone.

Arizona tries to look for a way to continue the conversation, but nothing easy presents itself. She sighs again. Her head bumps against the shelf.

Callie looks down at her hands and fidgets.

There's no ring there for her to play with.

The air conditioning clicks on overhead and they let it drone.

"I'm sorry."

It's hard to hear over the AC and Arizona has to look up at Callie's face. "What?"

"When we were—when the fighting was really bad and I said we weren't married? I'm sorry."

Arizona doesn't have anything to say even as her mind scrambles for words.

"I just—" Callie stands. She's looking up towards the vent and there's just a sliver of light to illuminate her. Big flowery words she hasn't used since Art History in college invade Arizona's brain.

Callie can be awe inspiring sometimes and all it takes is a tilt of her head.

"I'm sorry," she says again. "We **were** married."

"Were?" Arizona can finally find a word and it's not a good one. She hates the hope that laces it.

Callie frowns. "Yeah."

They keep looking at one another. Callie has an expressive face but all Arizona sees is the sadness.

The air conditioner clicks off.

Arizona stands. Her foot's asleep and she stumbles.

But Callie catches her. Strong hands on her elbows that support her.

Always.

Even when she was a monster.

Especially then.

She tries not to notice how good Callie smells. How different from Amelia. Tries not to notice how close they are and how inviting and soft Callie seems.

She misses kissing Callie but in the moment she misses her hugs even more. Secure and safe and right.

Callie licks her lips and Arizona is back to missing the kisses.

She opens her mouth to apologize for what she's about to do, but snaps it close and kisses Callie instead. Fast before Callie can stop her. Just long enough to make the longing worse. Long enough that she can breathe through her nose and almost pretend her marriage is still a thing that exists.

Callie breaks away first. Gives her that sad look all over again. "I'm with Owen," she whispers. Like that's the reason. "And you're with Amelia." Her hands are still on Arizona's elbows. "We're…" Callie can't say it.

Arizona nods and steps away. The chill on her arms is awful and she wishes she could cry again.

"We're done," she announces.

And Callie just nods.

####

Three days after the incident in the supply closet that they never talk about Callie comes home to a dark house. She takes Sofia inside. Feeds her. Puts her to bed.

She sits on the couch and waits for Arizona to come home.

By one she's done and when she stumbles into her bedroom with her eyes half closed she almost misses the letter.

It's neat and cruel and so final.

Arizona's moved to Alex's so they can have space to make their own lives.

She shoves the letter into her sock drawer and collapses onto the bed and when she starts to sob she's shocked by the sound.

They're done.

And it hurts like hell.


End file.
